Ancient history furnishes many extraordinary instances of this amiable virtue.

The Roman dictator T. Manlius, having exercised great cruelty over the citizens, was cited at the expiration of his office to answer for his conduct. Among a number of things laid to his charge, he was accused of treating with barbarity one of his own sons. All were highly exasperated against Manlius, excepting the son himself, who, under the greatest concern lest he should furnish grounds of accusation against his father, resolved to put a stop to the proceedings. Going to the house of the tribune Pomponius, who had accused his father, while Pomponius was yet in bed, he was immediately admitted by the tribune, who did not doubt but he was come to discover some new instances of his father's severity; but young Manlius drew out a dagger and declared he would stab Pomponius to the heart if he did not swear, in the form he should dictate, never to hold the assembly of the people for accusing his father. Pomponius, when he saw the dagger glittering at his breast, was compelled to yield, and took the oath demanded of him.

Amongst the multitude of persons who were proscribed at Rome under the second triumvirate, were Cicero and his brother Quintus. But the latter found means to conceal himself so effectually at home, that the soldiers could not discover him. Enraged at their disappointment, they put his son to the question, in order to make him disclose the place of his father's concealment; but filial affection remained proof against the most exquisite tortures. An involuntary sigh, and sometimes a deep groan, was all that could be extorted from the youth. Quintus, who was close at hand, when he heard the sighs and groans of a son expiring in tortures to save his life, quitted his place of concealment, and, presenting himself to the assassins, beseeched them to dismiss the innocent youth, and to take his life instead; but the only answer to this appeal was that they must both die. Then a new contest of tenderness arose who should die first; but this the assassins soon decided, by beheading them both at the same time.

Epaminondas, in the midst of the applause bestowed on him after his splendid victory over the Spartans at Leuctra, with an unaffected simplicity that marked the greatness of his character, observed—“My joy arises from my sense of that which the news of my victory will give my father and my mother.”

Among an incredible number of illustrious persons who were put to death by the tyrant Nero, was Barca Soranus, a man noted for his justice and integrity. During his confinement, his daughter Servilia was apprehended on the charge that she had converted into money all her ornaments and jewels, to defray the expense of consulting magicians. To this the young Servilia with tears replied that she had indeed consulted magicians, but for the sole purpose of discovering whether the emperor and senate would afford protection and safety to her beloved parent against his accusers. “With this view,” said she, “I presented the diviners with my jewels, apparel, and other ornaments, as I would have presented my blood and my life, could my blood and life have procured my father’s liberty. If this be a crime, my father was an utter stranger to it, I alone am the delinquent.” Notwithstanding this affecting appeal, she was condemned to die along with her father, but in what manner history is silent.

Valerius Maximus likewise mentions a very singular circumstance connected with this subject. A woman of illustrious birth had been condemned to be strangled. But the jailor who was ordered to execute her, being struck with compassion, resolved rather to let her perish of hunger. He also permitted her daughter to visit her, taking care, however, that the former brought nothing in the shape of sustenance. As this continued many days, he was surprised that the prisoner should live so long; but having narrowly watched the daughter, he discovered that she nourished her mother with her own milk. On the fact being made known, the criminal was pardoned, and a decree was passed that the mother and daughter should be maintained for the rest of their lives at the public expense.

The same author gives a similar instance of filial piety in a young woman called Xantippe towards her aged father Cimonos, likewise confined in prison, and which is commonly known by the name of the Roman charity. Both these instances appeared so extraordinary to that people, that they could only account for them by supposing that the love of children to their parents was the first law of nature. *Putaret aliquis*, says the author cited, *hoc contra naturam factum esse, nisi prima natura lex esset diligere parentes*.